


Do You Sing In The Shower? Do You Shine?

by gala_apples



Category: School of Rock (2003)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Multi, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Zack shares a shower with Freddie and Katie. It's exactly as good as Freddie said it would be.
Relationships: Freddy Jones/Katie (School of Rock)/Zack Mooneyham
Kudos: 6





	Do You Sing In The Shower? Do You Shine?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt shower/bath for seasonofkink.
> 
> Also I added Marco as an on-and-off band member, because what good band doesn't occasionally need some brass instruments?

It starts with Freddie saying he exclusively jerks off in the shower.

**What, really?**

**Yeah, it’s the ADHD. The shower cleans me up without me doing anything. If I had to remember to tidy up and do all the tedious bits, I’d never make it. I’d just be coated in layers of my own jizz.**

Zack believes it. The times they’ve fooled around at a gig in the bathroom, and Freddie hasn’t been able to swallow a whole load and lets it just drip down his chin and onto his shirt are astronomical. And there have been times Zack’s kissed Freddie and smelled Katie’s come soaked into his pores after a round of oral. 

Zack thinks for a second about his response. ‘Tell me something I don’t know about your sex life yet’ isn’t the most awkward question they’ve asked in their Noisy Trio group chat. But it’s close. Everything Zack wants Freddie and Katie to know about his sexual proclivities they already know. If anything is a secret, it’s for a reason. Declining to answer isn’t really how the questions game goes though. Well, given what he has, the least costly secret is **I’ve jerked off in the band van**

He waits a minute for a response and gets **gross Marco’s farted all over that thing** from Katie and **seems like a waste of steam to jerk it when one of the two of us would have been a certain thing** from Freddie. All in all, he could have gotten worse.

**So what’s yours**

**Sure you want an answer?**

Zack rolls his eyes and texts **Duh**

Freddie, obviously similarly impatient, sends **FFS**

**I want to ride you two while you wear over the knee socks and skirts**

Zack’s knee jerk reaction is no way, but he comes to his senses before he types that. Thinking on it for more than five seconds it’s less of a big deal. After all, Ned crossdressed the entire time he was in MaggotDeath and came out of that with no repercussions. 

**I’m not going skirt shopping** he ends up typing. **Give me one of yours or buy me a new one.**

 **I’m gonna jerk off tonight to your saying yes** Katie sends.

 **Pics or it didn’t happen** Freddie replies with an accompanying winky emoji.

When Zack goes to bed that night he doesn’t fall asleep immediately. He never does. Maybe it’d be different in a middle class home, but this place is a tomb. The silence vibrates in hostile waves, even through the mellow Dandy Warhols he puts on. Every night is an effort to distract himself. Tonight he occupies himself with the thoughts of the Noisy Trio, what he and Katie and Freddie call themselves. He knows he’ll end up doing the skirt thing, which means he should think of a Freddie centric thing too. Is there a way to combine sex and fire? Or sex and pissing people off?

In the end he invites them over to his house after band practice at Dewey’s. Not that that is unusual in itself, usually the three of them end up together somewhere most evenings. Used to be a quartet, as the defunct School Of Four group chat would imply, but not anymore. Zack makes the executive decision for it to be his place, specifically, because he has the best bathroom of the three of them. Katie and Freddie aren’t poor, but he’s the one with the newly renovated McMansion ensuite. Lawrence’s ensuite is on par, mind you, but he hasn’t joined them in a while. Zack misses his ex fuck buddy, but isn’t going to fuck up the band by making a big deal out of it. So what if Lawrence has joined Alicia’s side of the coin with her ‘only fuck outsiders’ thing, he can still play like Stevie Wonder. It’s no more Zack’s business than Tomika and Marta’s going on sixth year of monogamy is.

“Did you have something in mind?” Katie asks. She hasn’t technically taken her shirt off yet, but it’s one of those artistically cut up ones that means Zack can see half her bra anyway. It is a fucking good look on her.

“Yeah, Zacky. Are we talking popcorn and a movie or me sucking your dick here?”

While Zack would normally never turn down a genuine bonafide Freddie Jones blowjob, he does actually have an idea. A sex idea; the second best kind of idea, falling only behind new song ideas.

“Shower sex.”

“What?”

“If it’s good enough to jerk off in, it’s good enough to fool around in. So who’s down? I even bought some new shower gels, scents that remind me of you two.” He doesn’t usually do the shopping, that being the housekeeper’s job, but this was something he couldn’t delegate.

“Hell yeah, man,” Freddie says, level of enthusiasm as strong as it ever is for the things he’s known to like. 

Katie doesn’t say anything, but she gets off of the chaise lounge and heads for the ensuite, stripping off her shirt and she goes. Doesn’t surprise Zack in the least, Katie’s always more of a doer than a talker.

From a basic standpoint, the bathroom is kind of ridiculous. There’s a double sink, and a water resistant tufted bench, and fresh flowers. Zack can rest comfortably on the knowledge that it wasn’t his fuckin’ choice though, and that he has the fortitude to do gas station sink showers after a tour gig, if need be. It’s hard to walk the line of luxury and punk sometimes, makes you feel like a massive poser. But like Dewey always says, it’s not the glamour of something, it’s the heart, and Zack isn’t self hating enough to believe he doesn’t have the heart of punk, despite the pearly upbringing.

“One showerhead or two,” Freddie asks, already naked and standing behind the patterned frosted glass.

“Do both.” It’s not like the water tank can’t take it. If Zack is offering an experience, he wants to milk every drop from it.

Freddie manages to set both showerheads to approximately the same temperature, Zack notices as he ducks under the spray. Good on him. He shows his appreciation through grabbing his boyfriend and kissing the hell out of him. The constant water dripping down his face makes it hard to blink, but who really needs open eyes to stick their tongue down someone’s throat? And he can’t help but like the way Freddie’s hands tug through his hair, the wet making it tangled and harder to move his fingers through, easier to pull. 

Eventually they break apart. Freddie turns to Katie to give her the same treatment while Zack ducks past them to the recessed shelving on the right side of the shower. There are about seven bottles of shower gel lined up in a row. He wanted to give himself options. Zack thinks about it for a moment before plucking the bottle of dark red gel. Katie is feeling very raspberry at the moment. He pours a puddle of it onto the loofah and agitates the cloth. Soon enough it’s silky with raspberry lather, and delicious to inhale.

“Sit down?”

Katie sits on the tiled bench, legs wide. Zack sinks to his knees and takes endless time wiping soap suds over her thighs and ankles and soles of her feet before he buries his face in her. It’s a different kind of heat than the steam surrounding them. And when she comes, soaking his face, it’s a different kind of smell than the artificial fruit wafting all around him.

Zack’s glad the water drains quickly when the leg Katie has over his shoulder shifts and Katie’s foot presses him face first into the tiles. The surface is warm and smooth against his skin, and he has no interest in struggling against her hold on him. Katie and Freddie have known for a while that he doesn’t like to struggle, one of those sex secrets that stuck in his throat until he finally gained the courage to write some lyrics about it. Zack wasn’t crazy enough to introduce it to the rest of the band, but Freddie and Katie took the information well. Really well, actually. 

Freddie’s hand hydroplanes over his body as he kneels behind him, slicking him with mint chocolate shower gel suds. Zack can’t see the bottle from the position Katie’s holding him down in, but he can smell the rich, slightly bitter scent. It figures that that’s the one Freddie decided was for him. Scents have a personality to them, and Zack’s certainly not the grapefruit lemonade he purchased today for likely use on Freddie. Zack submits to his boyfriend’s teasing touches, the bubbly lather dripping down his skin as Freddie glides the loofah all over him. The tension ratchets until Freddie goes in for the kill. He lingers at his ass, wiping over his hole again and again until Zack is shuddering with the need to get some real fingers on him. 

“Fuck me, please.” He’s the only one in the relationship with any manners. Lawrence, maybe, not that it matters anymore. But no one’s expected anything but delinquency out of Freddie for years, and Katie’s so mellow and subtle sometimes it takes hours for a person to realize they’ve been dissed or dismissed by her. It’s an upbringing thing, the Mooneyhams being perfect archetypes of cold yet bossy upperclass authoritarians. Zack’s had table manners since before he could speak.

“Since you asked so politely, maybe,” Freddie answers. He keeps playing with his hole, fucking with his vulnerability and driving him up the wall. Freddie’s always had a sense of commitment, of being all in from the beginning. Zack’s had ample opportunity to learn that includes sex too.

Zack’s done enough research to know that despite its slippery nature soap and shower gel do not make good lubricants. Luckily he had the forethought to put his bottle on the shelving opposite the bench. Not that it matters, with his boyfriend and girlfriend conspiring to keep him in place. It seems like eternity before Katie removes her foot and bends to pinch his ear, sending a bolt of electricity through him. She stands up and scoots past the both of them, walking directly under the double showerhead deluge before getting the lube and passing it to Freddie. She looks good, hair stringy and jewels of water clinging to her skin.

A few minutes of delectable progress later sees Katie lounging again, stroking her clit to the perfect rhythm Freddie’s fucking him in. Even if Zack loses his mind and follows in Lawrence and Alicia’s footsteps he’ll still have to date a musician. He needs someone who knows tempo. He defies anyone to be as good at sex as somone who has beats in their soul.

When Katie comes a second time Zack imagines he can see her come welling up on her thighs. It’s not quite true, the visible evidence is her arm stilling and her head bowing as her knees curl into each other, but who doesn’t like their girl to be wet and debauched? The pool of water on the bench beneath her could _totally_ be come. He almost expects some dirty words from Freddie, like an order to go crawl over and lick it up. But Freddie is focused on his fucking, and it’s hard to pull someone with ADHD out of their fixation.

At this point, Katie’s deeply focused on herself too. As soon as her knees naturally relax from her orgasm, her hand is right back on her pussy, coaxing herself towards a third. Good for her. Girls are kickass at sex and pleasure. Zack’s not a creep, but he has to imagine Tomika and Marta take hours when they fuck, a cycle of giving and taking. 

Zack tries to aim his attention at his own orgasm, but it’s surprisingly difficult. Sometimes he gets into this headspace where he doesn’t even care if he comes, as long as his partners are happy. He worries sometimes that that’s what drove Lawrence off, that that was too intense for high school fucking around, but he tries not to think about it. Katie and Freddie are cool with it, and neither are the type to back down, and that’s what matters.

Katie’s whimpering her way through her third by the time that Freddie’s fingers clench down on his hips and Zack knows that it’s time. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that Freddie will come inside him, or he’ll- Yep, there goes Freddie pulling out so he can jack himself off a few strokes and come all over Zack’s back like a standard porno. Classic Freddie. 

Things intensify for Zack once Katie gets her third and Freddie’s finished smearing his jizz all over him. Katie drops to her knees on the aqua tile and slinks forward as Freddie curls around his side. Katie fucks his mouth with her tongue, hand once again in his tangled hair -he needs conditioner to smooth it, but why the fuck would he ever want to smooth it- tugging it in a beautiful rhythm. Freddie jerks him off with one ambidextrous hand, the other roaming from ball to ball to perineum and back. It’s a different kind of pleasure than repetitive pressure against his prostate, but it’s exquisite in its own way. The combination of both his lovers on him is more than enough to push him over the edge. Zack rips his mouth off of Katie’s so he can brace his forehead on hers, tenses his fingers against the floor, and lets go.

Freddie is right about the clean up. By the time Zack is coherent again, all the spunk has been washed down the drain. Katie keeps him grounded as Freddie leaves him, but before Zack knows it he’s back. He’s got a facecloth in hand. Zack doesn’t even remember a facecloth being used, but there’s no mistaking the navy blue terry. Freddie squeezes the cloth and cold water trickles on Zack. Holy shit, that’s so refreshing. Like the first swing of water on stage just when backup vocals have him parched.

“Come on bud. Up and out, before the water tank empties.”

Zack really doesn’t think that’s going to be an issue, but he still follows Freddie’s direction. Once they’re beyond the glass door, Katie tucks towels around them, chest height despite two of them being boys with no above waist attributes to hide. There’s no denying, though, that it’s cuddlier to be more covered. Then she takes it a step further. Katie uses a smaller towel and some mystifying knot technique to pile her wet hair on top of her head. It’s a beauty queen classic look, and somehow Zack isn’t surprised when despite their lack of long hair Katie manages to give the same to both himself and Freddie.

They take a selfie like that, the three of them in towel turbans. Zack already knows it’s going to be one he prints off and keeps. He’s got a makeshift scrapbook, pictures attached to lined notebook paper with a mask of packing tape. It doesn’t matter if someone spills a melted Slurpee on his notebook, or if the suitcase trolley gets stuck in the rain in transit from the plane to baggage pickup and everything he owns gets wet. Carefully stuck packing tape is as good as a lamination machine. Besides what’s the alternative? A upperclass scrapbook created by some snooty luxury saleswoman for a hundred dollars a page? Just because prep school is costing his parents sixteen thousand dollars a year doesn’t mean Zack wants to live like them and hire people to do the things that are important to him.

“We gonna get dressed, or lounge like kings?” Freddie asks. 

“Like kings?” Katie asks pointedly.

“Kings and queens, then. Who’s gonna feed me peeled grapes?”

“You’re an idiot.” Katie says fondly.

“Says the weirdo,” Freddie retorts, equally loving.

“You’re both awful,” Zack informs them. He’s never meant any words less in his life, but he knows they understand him, and is grateful. Not everyone’s been lucky enough to be raised on a diet of counterculture. What he has with his band is rare, and his lovers even more so.


End file.
